


strong as hell;

by unintentionallyangsty



Category: Wilfred (US)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Protective Siblings, Sibling Bonding, Sibling Love, Siblings, can't believe you nasties don't have any ryan and kristen bonding fics, sick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 01:04:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13753002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unintentionallyangsty/pseuds/unintentionallyangsty
Summary: While out on a summer outing, Ryan is bitten by a random dog-- an event which consequently sends him spiraling, with only Kristen present to help calm him down.





	strong as hell;

**Author's Note:**

> fjkflslgjsl self-projection whomst?
> 
> (i said i was never going to do this and yet Here We Are)  
> (i don't remember writing half of this)

“What’s the deal, Ryan?”

Ryan blinked, drawn suddenly back to the present (the waterfront park; the late June sun beating down on them; a small group of children giggling a few feet away from where they were sat) by Kristen’s impatient voice.

“What?” he furrowed his brow and turned to meet his sister’s thoroughly unimpressed expression (which was, he’d concede, probably justified). “I’m fine! There’s no deal! What--what do you mean?”

Kristen sighed softly, turning back to study the park before them and perching her elbows primly on her knees. She seemed to take a long moment to collect her thoughts before finally continuing, “You’re distant.” the words were clipped, but the underlying concern beneath them palpable. “You get like this, sometimes, and I never know what to do about it. Everything okay?” At this, she turned back to briefly raise a brow in his direction.

Ryan shrugged indifferently, willing the sudden tightness constricting around his ribs to ease, and forced an easy smile in return. “Everything’s fine.” he dismissed with a small shrug. “It’s just nice to be out in the sun, for once.”

“You have been holed up in that office for too long.” Kristen immediately conceded with a nod, turning to shoot a smile in the direction of where Joffrey was toddling along toward the sand pit; his stubby, two-year old legs wobbling dangerously, but remaining stubbornly upright on their journey. “How’s that going, by the way?” she tacked on, “Dad’s stuff?”

“It’s fine.” Ryan replied, automatically, voice going unintentionally a bit colder than he would have liked at the line of questioning.

In truth, it had been nearly a year since he’d begun his overseeing of the firm and, to this day, he still couldn’t shake the nagging sense of indifference toward the firm; and to the job, in general.

It wasn’t what it _had_ been, he’d admit. He could pull himself out of bed without too much of a fight, most mornings, and didn’t experience the same, nagging sense of dread-fuelled nausea he had way back when, in the early days of working for the firm; when he could hardly bring himself to enter the building without the serious threat of vomiting into the front topiary every morning.

It wasn’t, however, at all envisioned how he’d be spending his early thirties. There was a distinct lack of...direction fuelling his actions, he was well aware-- something that had made itself near-overwhelmingly apparent in the tightness that occasionally took up residence within his chest as he awoke in the early hours of the morning, and refused to let go until he found some (most likely substance charged) way of relieving it, or simply fell into bed later that evening, exhausted and more than ready to forget the events of the day prior.

Life was a cycle, he’d come to realize, a sick cycle that he wasn’t sure if he felt comforted or unsettled by.

He’d awoken that particular morning with a similar sense of tightness--unease, maybe--in his chest, and it had stuck with him like a sickness that wouldn’t let go, and certainly would not be ignored.

“Well you don’t have to crawl up my ass.” Kristen snapped, raising her hands placatingly and drawing him, for the second time, roughly back to the present moment. “I’m just asking. Trying to make conversation.”

Ryan winced, his heart lurching at the prospect of having upset Kristen unintentionally.

Their relationship had been doing much better--a fact he was admittedly somewhat proud of. It wasn’t perfect, due to a _number_ of circumstances, but it was...good. Comfortable, even. And he was slightly terrified of fucking that up by falling back on an easy negligence that had (probably) sewed the seeds of the problems between the two of them in the first place.

“Sorry.” he apologized, offering Kristen a small smile as a peace offering. “I didn’t mean to be defensive.”

Kristen sighed again, and turned to return the smile. “No, I’m sorry.” she conceded with a nod. “It’s hard not to anticipate that everyone is…expecting the worst of me…Something you can relate to, I’m sure.” her smile grew slightly with the jab.

Ryan chuckled. “That’s for sure. I--” he trailed off, his gaze drawn to where Joffrey, previously having been playfully grabbing at fistfuls of sand, was now standing almost straight as a rod, his brown eyes trained, wide and enthralled, on a large labrador that was approaching the sandpit slowly.

“Hey,” Ryan cried, sitting up and reaching out to place a tentative hand on Kristen’s arm--at which she turned, seemingly surprised, to peg him with an expectant look. “Do you think he’s okay?”

“Who, Joffrey?” Kristen furrowed her brow before turning to face where her son was still standing, unmoving, as the large dog crept forward. “Sure! He’s--” she trailed off, the words fading into near silence before she turned again, and cried, “I don’t...I don’t know!...Ryan?!” her voice jumped in pitch, and she suddenly sat a bit straighter, swivelling her head from Joffrey and the approaching dog to Ryan and back again.

Ryan swallowed, his stomach turning nauseatingly as he watched the dog, it’s chocolate brown eyes and bright, healthy yellow coat, shimmering in the bright sunlight…

He swallowed again, snapping suddenly out of his reverie, and turned to offer Kristen a brief nod. “I’ll take care of it.” he insisted, standing and striding toward the scene, Kristen’s call of ‘ _Wha--Ryan!_ ’ fading into white noise as he approached where he nephew was still stood, cautiously.

“Hey, Joffrey!” Ryan began, once he’d reached his nephew’s side. “Let’s--Let’s go play somewhere else, how ‘bout?” he trailed off, forcing a deep breath past the suddenly cinching iron bands around his lungs as he, again, met the labrador’s flat, dark eyes.

“He--hey pal.” he croaked, reaching slowly (ever so slowly) down to grab Joffrey by the arms, and began to steer the toddler away.

“Dog! Woof!” Joffrey cried, gesturing past Ryan’s hands toward the labrador, who took a few small steps forward at the words.

“Yes!” Ryan cried, chuckling a little hysterically and feeling his gut drop a little as he ushered Joffrey back a few steps to match. “It’s--It’s okay! It’s--” The dog let out a low, threatening growl, then, drying the words on Ryan’s tongue completely.

From there, things happened in an almost sickeningly instant sequence.

“ _Ryan!_ ” Kristen called frantically, from behind; her voice cracking as Ryan swooped forward to draw Joffrey back with one arm, extending the other in defense just as the lab leapt forward, baring its long, white teeth and--

And clamping down on the one hand Ryan had extended with those teeth, brown eyes still wild and absolutely unforgiving.

The world seemed to screech into slow motion for a long moment.

Joffrey’s wailing was the first thing that registered, rising up from behind Ryan from where he’d tossed his nephew, and bringing everything in the current moment back into a sharp, unapologetic focus.

Almost immediately, Ryan felt the blood drain from his face--a sensation so strong he was nearly able to ignore the sharp stinging from where his hand was just being released, groggily, from between the dog’s jaws.

Ryan let out a soft, muted wail, drawing his right hand back to himself as soon as he was able and cradling it against his chest, unable to stop himself from casting the dog (who, for it’s credit, appeared almost ashamed, now) an affronted expression. “Why…?”

The urge to immediately vomit began creeping up, slow and insistent.

And, just like that, things rapidly shifted back into real-time; Kristen was at his side, suddenly, Joffrey perched on her hip as she shrieked, “Get your stupid dog on a fucking leash! Asshole!” at the young man who had approached on rollerblades, grabbing the labrador by the collar and muttering profuse apologies.

“You should _absolutely_ be sorry, and thankful we don’t sue your ass!” Kristen was continuing, her voice high and a little hysterical as she continued to bounce a sobbing Joffrey on her hip. “We happen to have friends in _very_ high places and, if you know what’s good for you, you’d better--Ryan?”

Ryan took another stumbling step away from the scene, ignoring his sister’s and the man’s ( _the labrador’s…_ ) eyes watching him go as he broke into a clumsy jog toward the public restrooms across the lawn, his stomach churning traitorously and the band around his lungs tightening almost impossibly.

When he finally arrived, Ryan fumbled with the door to the nearest restroom, his hands shaking dangerously, and turned as soon as he was granted entrance to lock the door behind him, the yells echoing after him across the park muffled behind the flimsy barricade.

Inside, all was dark and stifling quiet. With a trembling sigh, Ryan let himself sag against the concrete wall behind him, his breaths coming out in short, uneven gasps.

Only then did he realize that his right hand was still cradled tightly to his chest.

With a grimace, Ryan extracted the limb to study it for himself. In the dim light leaking out from around the closed door, he could just make out the bite marks on the skin of his hand and palm, bruising a dark purple and swelling rapidly. He swallowed against the sight, reaching out his opposite hand to prod at the wound, only to find that it was jittering too violently to rest on one specific point.

It was, he reminded himself….it was nothing. Just a fluke...just….

The tightening of his chest suggested otherwise. He gulped a desperate breath, heaving the inhale past the fluttering of his heart, to little avail. With another thick swallow, he tried again, only for the inhale to stick sickeningly against the blockade that had lodged itself firmly between his lungs.

Another desperate gasp, and he was sagging further against the wall, his uninjured hand rising to tangle in his hair as he fought to get control of himself.

Another failed inhale...the room began to spin sickeningly...another, and grey was beginning to blur at the corners of his vision….another… _another_ …

( _“Don’t cry, Ryan! It’ll make things worse...please stop crying!”)_

“Ryan?” Kristen’s voice cut in distantly through the fog, tight and insistent. “Ryan, what’s--are you okay?”

Ryan opened his mouth to reply. He hadn’t intended to worry Kristen, he reminded himself. It was fine. This was fine. He just needed a minute…

And he intended to say as much but, when he opened his mouth, all that he was able to offer was a weak whimper in reply.

He quickly snapped his jaw back shut, his cheeks flushing slight in his fury with his own incapability.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’.” Kristen called through the door, her voice less impatient than Ryan would have anticipated, but clogged with an emotion that he couldn’t pinpoint, just then. “Do you--What do you need, Ryan?”

“I--” Ryan croaked, but couldn’t continue past the tightening of his throat.

What did he need?... He needed this entire thing never to have happened, he reflected, studying again the (ever increasing) bruising on his hand in the dim light.

He needed to have one (just one) ordinary interaction with his sister. He needed…

_He needed Wilfred_.

The thought had risen unbidden, but Ryan immediately felt himself choke on another messy inhale, tears springing to his eyes without warning as he sunk further against the wall, falling unceremoniously to the cold and unapologetic concrete floor below as he sucked in a wet and trembling breath.

“Ryan?” Kristen called again, her voice having softened into something smaller, and much more hesitant. “Are you okay?”

“I--” Ryan gasped slightly, clenching both hands into small fists, his breath stuttering around the pain twinging in his right. “I don’t know.”

“Okay!” Kristen replied, without missing a beat. “Okay. That’s okay. I--Ryan, I need you to listen to me.”

Instead of replying, Ryan sucked in another tremulous breath, his left hand tightening in his hair until he could feel a distant sting as his fingernails dug into his palm.

Without thinking, he began to tug at the strands tangled around his fingers sharply, increasing the force of his tugs until the sharp pain at his skull rivaled the one of the bite on the opposite hand.

“Hey!” Kristen’s voice cut in, again. “Ryan! Don’t--Don’t spiral, okay? I know how you get.”

Ryan choked on a small, desperate bit of laughter at the words, his mouth downturning into a miserable frown when he felt hot tears spill out onto his cheeks at the movement.

“It’s okay.” Kristen’s voice soothed, past the door, the warmth of the words leaking into the otherwise cold and empty restroom and wrapping around Ryan with more force than he would have thought possible. “And...I know I’m not the best at this but...it’s--it’s okay to cry, Ryan. You can cry.”

Ryan forced another inhale past the sap in his lungs, choking on a sob at the words and tugging again (though much more gently, now) at his hair as his head fell to rest on his knees, drawn tightly to his chest.

“But I need you to do something for me.” Kristen continued, her words soft and cajoling, but simultaneously brooking no argument. “I need you to stand up.”

Ryan opened his mouth to argue, the loosening iron band around his lungs threatening to tighten again at the mere thought, but Kristen spoke again and interrupted.

“I know it’s more comfortable to sit down right now. Trust me, I know.” the last sentence was spoken softly, almost hesitantly, and Ryan raised his head automatically to listen, blinking past his suddenly stinging and puffy eyes. “But I need you to stand up and wash your hands, right now, with soap. Lots of soap. You need to clean that bite as soon as possible.”

At the words, Ryan choked on another inhale, his hands beginning to shake threateningly again as he drew his injured one away from where he’d been cradling it again to study it in the dim light.

The bite was almost imperceptible now, swollen as it was and bruised a sickening blue and purple. Ryan felt tears spring back to his eyes as he studied the mark.

“I--I can’t!” He cried, before he could stop the words, unsure of the reasoning behind them, but firm in his argument, all the same.

“I know.” Kristen was quick to assure. “It’s hard, I know. But I need you to do it, Ryan. This could get really messy, otherwise.”

Ryan shook his head, though he was well aware that Kristen couldn’t see him, a few more hot and fat tears spilling onto his cheeks at the movement.

The feat of simply standing, much less subjecting himself to the sting of soap and water on the wound, seemed a herculean feat. “I--Kristen, I--” he began.

“Listen, Ryan.” Kristen interrupted, her voice dropping into something private and soothing. Ryan was suddenly certain that she was leaned up against the restroom doorway, the way she had done when they were children, when he had locked himself in the bathroom, upset and unwilling to let her see him cry (and unwilling to face the inevitable, following lecture). “I don’t want to see you get hurt. I know it’s tough, alright? But...we all have to do things we don’t want to! I...I have some antibiotic ointment out here. And bandaids. Remember--” she paused, her voice breaking fragilely. “Remember when I used to put bandaids on your cuts and scrapes? This’ll be the same thing. Just--Wash your hand and come out, okay? Ryan? Please?”

Ryan hesitated, choking desperately on a sticky gasp, before extending a trembling hand to brace himself against the wall he’d been leaned against, pausing briefly before forcing himself to stand.

_You can do this,_ he lectured himself sternly, ignoring the stickiness clogging along his throat as he forced himself to stand up entirely straight, once again. He wasn’t a child anymore…

“That’s it!” Kristen cheered, interrupting his thoughts and knowing somehow exactly what was happening. “Just wash it, now. It’s gonna be okay, Ryan.”

Ryan reached forward, turning the sink on tremulously and fumbling with the soap dispenser for a moment before applying a liberal amount and scrubbing it into the wound with a hiss.

“Just rinse it, okay?” Kristen called over the running water. “And then come out here and we’ll clean it.”

Which was, Ryan realized as he turned the tap off and turned to face the door, a feat easier said than done.

He wobbled dangerously for a moment in the dim light of the restroom, facing the door warily and sucking in a long breath against the voice at the back of his mind that insisted that he retreat back into the far corner of the room…slide back down to the floor…and cover his ears against the loud, unforgiving onslaught of input from outside the small, safe haven he’d created for himself.

The moment passed, however, along with the sharp inhale he was attempting to swallow, and Ryan hesitated only a few moments more before extending his uninjured hand to open the restroom door.

Ryan squinted and raised a hand against the immediate onrush of June sunlight filtering into the previously darkened space, his eyes taking a moment to adjust before he could focus in on Kristen standing poised against the building, her brow furrowed and her large sunglasses having been pushed hastily up onto her forehead.

“Oh thank _god!_ " she cried, swooping forward to grab him by the elbow and dragging him fully out into the open. “I thought you were gonna be in there forever.”

“It’s--It’s fine, Kristen.” Ryan protested, struggling weakly as Kristen reached for his right hand and pulled it forward for inspection. “It’s nothing.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing.” Kristen argued, immediately reaching into the bag at her hip (the one not continuing to bounce a now fully-sated Joffrey) and fishing for what Ryan assumed was her antibiotic ointment. “God, I can’t believe the _nerve_ of some of these people! Letting those monsters walk around without leashes. Here, sit down.”

“It--It wasn’t really his fault.” Ryan replied, allowing himself to be led to sit on the grass a few feet from where they’d been standing. “Some dogs just have a...mind of their own.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’d know.” Kristen snapped, dropping Joffrey unceremoniously onto the grass before finally procuring the small tube of ointment from her bag.

“Sorry?” Ryan shook his head slightly, swallowing past the lump threatening to grow again in his throat.

There was a pause, before Kristen sighed slightly and turned to shoot him an apologetic grimace. “Nothing.” she dismissed, leaning forward to draw Ryan’s bitten hand into her lap. “I’m gonna apply this, and it’s probably gonna sting a little bit.” she warned, hardly hesitating before beginning to slather a generous dollop of ointment onto his bruised hand.

“How-- _ow_.” Ryan hissed slightly, before trying again, “You--you seem to know a lot about dog bites.”

“I am a nurse.” Kristen replied in a clipped tone, briefly casting her gaze to where Joffrey was toddling along the lawn before turning her attention back to Ryan’s hand.

“A maternity nurse.” Ryan reasoned, huffing a small chuckle. “I doubt you see a lot of dog bites in your day to day--”

“Remember Jeffrey Faust?” Kristen interrupted, turning to peg him with a dark glare.

Ryan hesitated, shrinking back slightly at at the unexpected line of questioning before shaking his head. “Not--not really.” he replied weakly, in the face of Kristen’s stormy expression.

“Well!” Kristen continued, as if he hadn’t spoken, dabbing more ointment onto his hand with a bit more force than Ryan assumed was strictly necessary. “He was a kid in my grade. Third grade probably. Really fun, totally healthy and then...One day he just--Their family dog bit him.” she paused to inhale, slightly. “I guess they didn’t think anything of it, didn’t get it checked out. And--Cause a week later he was…” another inhale, and Kristen turned to peg him with a somewhat crumbling look. “He was one of the reasons I wanted to become a nurse in the first place, you know!” she cried, weakly, her lower lip trembling almost imperceptibly before she turned her attention dutifully back to Ryan’s hand.

“I--god, Kristen.” Ryan slowly drew his wounded hand, now liberally coated in antibiotic ointment, away, and extended to opposite to rest lightly on his sister’s elbow. “I’m--”

“Don’t apologize.” Kristen protested, raising a hand and letting her eyes slip shut, for a moment. “It was a long time ago, and I hardly knew him. I just…” she trailed off, swallowing a little as her gaze flitted to Ryan’s bitten hand, now lying prone on the grass a couple of feet away. “I don’t want the same thing happening to you. You’re...well, you.”

“It won’t.” Ryan replied, immediately, tightening his hold around her elbow for a brief second before releasing the grip entirely. “You don’t have to worry about that.” he forced a small, somewhat wobbly grin. “I’m strong, remember?”

“Right,” Kristen snorted, her mouth turning up into a mirroring smile, equal in sincerity, as she turned to face him again. “The runt of the litter. Strong as all hell!” she chuckled again.

“You’d better believe it.” Ryan retorted, far past being offended at the tone, and turned to face where the sun had begun to set on the waterfront before them, a warmth blossoming in his chest as he watched Joffrey continue to stumble along the lawn.

“Yeah, well.” Kristen continued, filling the silence stretching between them with her soft tone, and leaning sideways slightly to prod his shoulder with her own. “You are, though.”

“Hm?” Ryan inquired, keeping his gaze focussed forward and taking the moment to bask in the bliss of the deep, easy breaths he was able to drink in, now.

“Strong.” Kristen replied, simply. “Runt of the litter. Strong as all hell.”

And, for the first time in a long time, Ryan reflected, the unexpected warmth growing in his chest, he was able to believe the words.

“Huh,” He murmured, turning to shoot his sister a small, tender smile, watching the sunset she’d also turned to face reflecting off of her wide, brown eyes. “You too.”

He released another small, quavering huff of laughter, and turned to face the sun setting before them again. “Strong as hell.”

**Author's Note:**

> gfdjkgjkjl don't [@me](http://elijahwoodnot.tumblr.com)


End file.
